


Reliving History, Repeating Mistakes

by xJordanKayX



Series: Past Present Future [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, alice cooper/hal cooper (minor background), betty cooper/jughead jones (mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xJordanKayX/pseuds/xJordanKayX
Summary: Alice Cooper and F.P. Jones fall back into old patterns. An exploration of sex, lust and love.  'set somewhere in season one, after Bughead is a thing and started of as a oneshot that was basically just smut with a little, tiny, bit of plot mixed in for good measure... gets A/U after that... ignoring his involvement in the murder/ will probly not touch that subject at all'





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,  
> This is something I didn't know existed until today. Ages ago, I accidentally watched the first episode of Riverdale and was hooked immediately. I fell in love with the idea, that Alice Cooper and FP Jones definitively had been together in High School and I was hoping for something on the show that would maybe indicate that. Since we didn't get that, I seemingly decided to write my own story, but forgot I did. Found this on my phone today and remebered writing this on my way to work one day. It's unbetad and unedited, but I thought, what the hell.
> 
> This isn't my usual fandom, but here goes.
> 
> Enjoy and tell me what you think
> 
> Love, J

Reliving History, Repeating Mistakes

He had been ignoring the constant banging against his front door for the last five minutes. His son knew how to get in if he really needed to, without him opening the door, and everyone else that could have any business with him is simply not important enough to leave his comfy couch right this moment. He's not drunk, when you spent the greater portion of your adult life downing drink after drink like it's tap water, you develop a resistance, definitively need more than five beers to get him there – but that's exactly where he's trying to get at. At least until someone decided to show up at his trailer in the middle of the night.

He closes his eyes, sinks further back into his couch, intend on blocking the aggravation noise from his mind, when he hears a voice accompanying the banging. It sounds pissed and, knowing exactly who is on the other side of that door, he, for a moment, feels a sick sense of glee. He'd always love to rile her up – even back in high school those were the times he found her the most attractive. Of course attractive is something she had always been to him, no matter in what mood he happened to cross her path. 

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” her voice is loud enough to be heard through the closed door, but carefully silent enough that hopefully nobody else hears. “Having me look like a fool out here for the last five minutes. Come on, I know you're home and not nearly drunk enough to be passed out yet”

For a brief moment, he wonders how she would know that and then he remembers – her daughter is dating his son – and with a groan he realizes that that is probably exactly why she's here.  
He had been to dinner with the both of them, in an attempt to become a better father from at least now on, and dinner had; at some point, gone horribly wrong. He had been trying to be polite – had succeeded for a good part of the evening – but when they started to ask the wrong questions he had started to snap at them. The wrong questions like, I he serious about the new job Fred Andrews gave him. Like is he going to give up drinking completely. Like is he ever going to cut ties with the Serpents. He realizes, in hindsight, that they were teenagers and probably didn't know better than to ambush him like that, but it had still pissed him of. They had reminded him just a little too much of their respective mothers. The kids had left when he had ordered his first beer of the day.  
That one, he had told himself, was just to cope with their aggravating questions. The other four were to start his journey to getting smashed. He has been home for about an hour, left just after the kids did, and of course she knows that. 

He finally gets up from the couch when he hears her let out a frustrated sigh, but he knows her too well to think she will be leaving before he lets her in. Standing at the door, his hand already poised over the knob, he takes another full minute to contemplate if he really wants to open it, and the he swings the door inward with a flourish. 

Her hand is raised in mid-air, as if she has been about to start the obnoxious knocking back up and he can read the anger and frustration from her face. She's still hot, he has to admit again, though this time he keeps his mouth shut and only thinks it to himself. And he reminds himself that that's not what they're here for. When she opens her mouth to, presumably, shout at him, he holds up a hand to silence her. 

“As much as I like to see you all hot and bothered, I am actually just not in the mood for company tonight” he flashes her one of his sarcastic smiles she used to love when they were younger. “But if you're missing the old days, you're welcome to stay. I think my kitchen needs cleaning” He has no intention of actually letting her in. 

“I'm not here to joke. I have a crying teenager locked in her room because her boyfriend won't talk to her, and another one angry and frustrated next door, because you pissed them off. So I'm here to ask what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Tell me, which one are you actually worried about? My son or your daughter?” he steps backward when she pushes her way into his trailer, closing the door behind her absently. 

“As much as it might surprise you, I do care about your son” She sends a look of hatred in his direction – at least that's what she hopes he receives. The way her mind betrays her with images of him (them really) wearing far less clothing makes it entirely possible that what's showing on her face is about a lightyear away from hatred. “Someone has to” It's a low blow, because even if he never had been the best of fathers, he had always cared about his children. She knows that, but she's angry and when she gets angry she does and says things she's not thinking through beforehand. 

“I do love my son and don't you ever dare say otherwise again” He's angry, too now. Even though they didn't always get along in high school and even less after she became serious – and later married – to Hal Cooper, he had bever shouted at her – has never been this angry before. They had traded sarcastic innuendo ever since they were old enough to know what the word meant and had viciously snapped at each other more often than not during their rather complicated relationship, but they'd never reach the point they are at now. They've known each other their whole lives, he knows what she is capable of if she loses it, but it had never been directed at him. This is the first time he fears she might snap. 

“You don't want to threaten me” He voice drops to an alarming calm and icy tone. She steps closer to him, and as much as he hates to admit it, he would have backed up if the wall behind him didn't exist. 

Instead he gets up in her face then – her beautiful face – and almost physically pushes her away from him. “I'm not scared of you” He hisses under his breath, just loud enough for the sound to carry between the almost non-existent space between them. And, right in this moment, he realizes it's true – he's way too aroused to feel anything beyond that. By the look he gets of her chest, rising and falling in irregular patterns, she's not fairing any better. He'd always wanted her the most when she was mad at him. “Don't talk about my son like that” He adds almost as an afterthought, because he is already preoccupied with thoughts of pushing her up against the wall and fucking her and the knowledge that she would probably let him. The gorgeous eyes that stay on his lips way too long, while hers part almost as if in anticipation, doesn't help matters. 

“It's not like you care one way or the other” She doesn't really mean it, because logically she knows he cares for his son and in a way for her daughter, too. She needs to say something to defuse the rising tension, though, before they let it get too far. A moment later, she doesn't care anymore. 

“I highly suggest you stop talking now” He has no idea what he would actually do to her if she didn't but he strongly suspects that it's not something she wouldn't want him to. He might be tough and doesn't shy away from hitting and threatening other people, but he has never been, nor will he ever be violent towards her. Kissing her to shut her up, however...

“Why don't you make me?!” And that's his cue. 

His mouth is on her before she can even comprehend what she just said, and though she has no idea where it came from (that's a lie, but she keeps telling it nonetheless), she doesn't want to take it back. It's been way too long since she had been kissed like that, since he had kissed her like that, and she's more aroused than she can think of ever having been while kissing her husband. The small part of her brain that tried to tell her what she's doing is wrong is silenced, when her back crashed into the front door of his trailer with more force than necessary. The groan she emits from the impact is swallowed by his eager mouth and his tongue takes the opportunity to slip between her lips at her gasp. Whatever reservations she might have had up until now, and granted they had been rather slim anyway, dissipated in a flurry of hot tongues, wandering hands and a tingling between her legs she had thought she wouldn't feel in association with him anymore. 

She kisses him back eagerly, her tongue dancing with his in a rhythm they haven't done in over 20 years but it doesn't matter. They come to each other so seemingly effortless, as if it hadn't been 20 years since they had last done that, but rather 20 minutes. 

Her purse hits the floor next to her feet when he picks her up and holds her firmly between the door and his broad chest. Automatically, hands fist into his hair and legs wrap tight around his hips. She tries to bring him even closer to her, one hand loosening the buttons of his shirt when they finally come up for air. 

They don't talk, there's nothing to say. They both know they shouldn't be doing this, but they both also know that they really want to. Wanted to for the last twenty years. So he shifts his weight to stand more securely and balances her against the door for a moment while he takes hi hands off her hips so she can slide his open shirt from his shoulders. Then he kisses her again until she's breathless and when he leaves her mouth to trail kisses and nibbles down her throat and cleavage she realizes her blouse has joined his shirt on the floor. She has no recollection of him unbuttoning the garment or of his fingers working it down her arms, but then he has always been good at distracting her. Her bra is next to go and she doesn't object. Not when the lacy cups covering her soft skin are replaced by an incredibly talented tongue and questing fingers. 

He works her nipples into hardened peaks while she pants and moans and grinds her lower half against his ever growing erection. She's holding his head in place with both of her hands while she absentmindedly slides off her heels to find better leverage. He's so close to her that they don't even know where they ended or the other began, but it's still not close enough for her. She's waited twenty years for this, so she might as well take advantage. 

Looking down so she can watch what he's doing to her she sees that, with her bra gone and her skirt shoved up over her hips so he can step between her legs comfortably, she's as good as naked in front of him. Only the flimsy fabric of her panties gives her the false sense of modesty. And she realizes with a start, that he's wearing way too much clothes. So she pushes him back from her chest, he has switched over to her other breast some time when she wasn't paying attention, and brings his mouth back to hers for a brief but thorough kiss. She feels his hands sliding up and down the outside of her thighs, over her ass and back around, to dip teasingly between her legs for just the briefest of moments. The gasp is involuntary, but she can't stop it when his fingers ghost over her soaked panties for the first time. 

When she reaches for his pants, belt already half undone, he kisses her once more, taking her hands in both of his and pinning them to the door above her head. She sends him a dirty glare, looks like he also still knows she likes it when he's in control, that turns into a frown rather quickly, when he takes one of his hands away and untangles her legs from around his hips. He only smirks at her. Then he lowers her feet back onto the floor and steps back just enough to still be able to hold her hands still. 

She's about to say something, to threaten him with bodily harm if he dares to stop now, when his free hand winds around her hip and a second later the zipper of her skirt is dragged down excruciatingly slow. The skirt finally hits the floor at her feet and, without further ado, her panties join. He brings his free hand to her hip, holds her there, while his thump traces irregular patterns against her hipbone. And just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, he sinks to his knees in front of her, her newly freed arms following him down, finding purchase in his soft hair. 

The first touch of his tongue on her aching clit is heaven and she lets out a low moan to show him just how much she is enjoying this. He works her into a frenzy fast, sliding two fingers into her, never once letting his focus (and tongue) shift from his main goal. She comes against him with a strangled cry and he smiles against her flesh. Then she tries to push him from between her legs, her orgasm still abating, but he fucks her through it and with a satisfied smirk pushes her over the edge a second time. She screams this time. 

She thinks she might have blacked out there for a moment, for when she opens her eyes, he's standing before her, admiring her naked form with longing. She pulls him forward, kisses him, feels herself on his tongue and it does things to her body she thought she would never feel again. They make quick work of his pants and when he stands before her, equally naked, her heart stops for a moment. She's wanted this for so long, right from the moment they said they couldn't do this anymore, and she still does. 

“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom?” he suggests. It's the first word either of them has spoken since he had kissed her. 

“No” she answers. This will get way too emotional for the both of them were they to end up in his room. But he's right, she has to admit, they are too old to do this somewhat comfortably against a wall and so she drags him over to the couch. 

She pushes him down and, straddling him, fuses their mouths together for a deep and passionate kiss. She reaches between their bodies and takes him in her hand, teases her entrance with the head of his cock, before she lines them up perfectly she all she has to do is slide onto him. 

“Why don't you leave and go back to your husband?” He gives her one last chance to get out of this, to stop this. She doesn't take it.

“Why don't you just shut up and fuck me?” 

So he does.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what came over me, but i decided to give this another try. If this actually works out for me, this will be a four-parter, with a little bit more plot and evaluating of situations and feelings, but this started out as an excuse for some steamy Alice/FP sex and that's where this will stay. 
> 
> This is a direct continuation of chapter 1

“Why don't you just shut up and fuck me?” 

She doesn't give herself any time to rethink her words, before sinking down on his hard cock. Truth is, that she doesn't want to think about what they are doing, because that makes it all the more real. She is about to cheat on her husband of twenty years with the man she had been so incredibly in love with those twenty years earlier, the man who had been everything to her except the ticket out of the shithole she had called home as a teenager. The man she, if she was honest with herself, still harbored feelings for. She’d already shattered around his talented tongue and questing fingers twice in the last ten minutes, she can't deny that, but she can still tell herself she hadn't really been cheating at all (it’s stupid and a lie, she knows that. It 's still easier though). But this, right here, is different. He's sheathed in her completely, being as intimately joined with her as at all possible, while her husband is still waiting for her to forgive him for his misgivings. A part of her recognizes the irony behind the situation.

And then he moves inside her, gently at first, and all thought of her husband or why she shouldn't be here were wiped from her mind. All that still exists are the two of them, moving as one, reconfirming what they already know. That even after twenty years, they still know each other, still know exactly what to do. Still have that incredible spark between them that had made their sex so great decades ago. 

He sets a slow pace to start with, guiding her gently with his hands on her hips. She's panting above him, leaning forward into his space just far enough for him to capture one of her breasts with his mouth. He's biting and sucking the sensitive nub, draws back to blow cold air over the heated flesh, watches with satisfaction as her skin breaks out in goose flesh and she visibly shivers - and then he starts all over again with her other nipple. She braces her hands against the back of the couch, on either side of his head and starts to move her hips in a faster rhythm.

This slow and languid pace is not what she wants, what she needs. It gives her too much opportunity to think, to feel the emotions she pushed down as far as they would go. This is not the time for that. This is nothing than a short lapse in judgment, a quick fuck to relieve tension and frustration. A mistake never to be repeated again. But, to make her believe that herself, he needed to actually fuck her - the harder the better.

“FP" it's the first time she says his name since she had shown up at his door and the way she says it, equal parts warning and begging, makes him come to the same conclusion she already has. This is not a non emotional fling, but neither of them could afford to let it be anything but that. So he closes his eyes for a second, grips her hips hard enough to have her stop moving. And when he opens his eyes again, he's right there with her; pretending. 

Holding her firmly in place above his lap, he turns them over abruptly. She lets out a gasp when her back hits the couch hard, that turns into a low moan when he shifts inside her as reaction to his movement. He has to bite her shoulder to anchor him to something not to come right this moment. And then he claims her mouth with his own and starts moving inside her again. 

It's hard and fast and everything she hasn't done and felt in a very long time. His bruising fingertips digging into her flesh are just painfull enough to keep her grounded, to remind her of the one thing she can not forget. This can't be gentle or she's going to fall down the rabbit hole that is loving him again. That had been a train-wreck waiting to happen even then, and it certainly is now. So, before her mind decides to supply her with images of how they weren't destined to crash and burn, she rakes her manicured fingernails down his back. She's leaving red streaks and bruises and, when he hits her just right and she digs her nails into his lower back, she's sure she's drawn blood. Not that either of them cared, really and that bite mark on her shoulder is going to bruise by tomorrow anyway, so she thinks a little payback is not amiss. 

Eventually, her hands settle on his ass, pulling him deeper inside her with every one of his thrusts. She laughs, a short hard sound, when her mind registers the expletives he's whispering against her naked skin. She answers in kind, encouraging him to pick up the pace still, to move even faster, to take her even harder. To just fuck her, consequences be damned, because everything else feels too much like this isn't a mistake. 

He gets the hint, pulls her hips off the couch for a better angle and with a few sharp movements has her screaming his name, among other things. He wants to kiss her again, but he's torn between his desire and the urge to hear her scream and moan and curse – and to know he's the one responsible for those sounds leaving her lips. In the end, he opts for just watching her as she falls apart under him again. 

She hadn't thought she would climax again but it seemed like her body didn't share that believe, when the first waves of her orgasm ripple through her body. He can't hold on much longer, she can see it on his face, but that doesn't matter, because she's right there with him. A few more thrusts and he's coming inside her, in turn bringing her own realease. 

He collapses on to of her for a moment, both of them panting hard, trying to catch their breaths, before he slides away from, and out off, her. She bites her lip to keep from sighing at the loss of contact and scrambles off the couch to find her clothes. He doesn't bother with much himself, it's his house after all, so sinks back into the couch in only his underwear. He watches her get dressed, supresses the urge to stalk over to her and start undressing her all over again. 

“This has never happened” She's fastening her bra behind her back, looking him over with a raised eyebrow. How can she expect him to forget this ever happened when she's standing in front of him, wearing nothing but her underwear, the obvious sings of their activities still prominent on her body and in her face. 

“Of course not” He answers nevertheless. From the moment he had kissed her this was noting they would ever speak of again – he knew that, she knew that and they were both okay with it. (Another lie – seems like they are telling themselves quite a lot of those tonight). “Won't ever happen again either” 

“Of course not” She's finished dressing, plucking her coat from the floor next to his front door and slides it on. Doing up the buttons she deliberately looks anywhere but at him, because the last thing she should be doing is sliding out off her clothes again and spending the rest of the night naked, making love to him. But that's exactly the only thing she really wants to do right now and when she'd look at him, see the same desire reflect in his face, she would not be walking out of his door anytime soon. 

So she picks up her purse, slings it over her shoulder and opens the door without looking back. 

“I'll talk to them, make things right. Don't worry” 

She closes the door behind her with more force than necessary, just barely resisting the urge to bang her head against it, repeatedly. 

Shit, she'd had a purpose fro coming here.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might have noticed, that this story isn't limited to four chapters anymore, that's because I found myself loving this idea that was supposed to be a quick oneshot so much, that I decided to give this a real and proper try. So, read, enjoy and tell me what you think :)

It's been a week since she'd shown up at his trailer, intend on talking to him (yelling really) and had gotten so much more than she thought she would. And though they had completely lost track of the actual reason she'd been there, he had come through with his parting promise. 

But, as much as she hates to admit it, it has * not * been a week since she's last had sex with him. 

She'd watched him disappear into the Andrew's house next door, and for a moment she played with the thought of spying on the conversation from her daughter's bedroom. She hadn't. Just patiently waited for her own doorbell to ring, because he had promised to make it right with both of them, which means he'd be making a stop here next. When her daughter had joined her in the kitchen, nervously rearranging her ponytail every few seconds, she'd known that, even though it hadn't been her, * someone * had been tracking the conversation next door. Sure enough, five minutes later she'd led him and his son into the room. 

A look had passed between them for just the briefest of seconds, an entire conversation held without saying a word. He's here to apologize to her daughter, nothing else was going to happen here. They both knew that, they both understood that and neither their children, nor her husband, had to ever find out about what had happened between them yesterday. 

She had ignored the way her face had tried to twist into a smile when she saw him and the feeling of lust and, dare she say it * love *, rushing through her as he casually leaned against the counter, staring at her. The children had disappeared into the living-room for a moment, promising to be right back to hear what he has to say, and neither of them really knew what to say. They hadn't had a real conversation in almost twenty years, hadn't really * seen * each other in almost that long, and the last time they did, there was no talking involved. But this would be no repeat of the day before, especially with their children in the next room. Especially because she didn't want it to be. She had been proud that she seemed to still be able to lie to herself in that regard. 

So they had finally settled on some awkward small talk, polite compliments that skirted the line of flirting. He had asked where her husband is; this was his home, too, after all, and he didn't think he could stand being in the same room as the man who's wife he'd screwed last night. When she had told him she hadn't the slightest idea, since she'd kicked him out some days ago, she has no idea why she'd even told him, but she had seen him trying to hide a smile. The awkward silence settled over them again and it gave her way too much opportunity to picture him without his clothes, doing her in the exact spot she's in, leaning against the fridge. She had dug her fingernails into her palms to anchor her to the present, pressing deeper when she'd looked into his eyes and had been sure of what he had been thinking about in this moment. She had cleared her throat with a sound that sounded way too loud in her ears and had proceeded to open the refrigerator and then cabinets, setting four glasses and a pitcher of iced-tea on the counter. She had offered him some and he had gladly accepted. At least it had been something to talk about, even if it hadn't lasted long, but the silence was getting to them both. 

The last time they had said they weren't going to do this anymore had been hard. They had been teenagers, months shy of their High School graduation and incredibly in love. They had both mutually realized, that love wasn't always enough and he had broken it off and encouraged her to finally say yes to that date her now-husband had asked her to more than once. It had been her chance to get out, and he loved her enough to want her to take it. She had loved him enough to do anything for him, and so she had. The next time Hal had asked, she accepted. She had moved from the Southside to her fancy home rather quickly after that. He had stuck with the serpents and his home. They hadn't seen each other all that much and so moving on had been easier. 

They still lived on opposite ends of the same city, but with their children being in a seemingly pretty serious relationship, and determined to have their parents at least be able to sit down and have a polite dinner conversation, ignoring each other was out of the question. 

He was still in love with her, and by the looks of it, she's feeling the same, and * that * was the real problem here. 

And then, finally, the teenagers had entered the kitchen. Hand in hand they had claimed positions on the opposite side of the kitchen counter, right across from him. They had thought the sigh he had emitted had been one of nervousness, given he has no idea how his apology will be conceived, but she had recognized it for what it really meant. It had been a sign of relief, she had felt it, too. 

The following conversation had been relatively short in light of what they had to discuss. He had said he was sorry for acting like he had, answered all of yesterday's questions properly, and seemingly to their satisfaction, told them he would be trying harder next time and apologized again. She hadn't said a word, just watched from where she stood as the children decided what to do. They never spoke a word between them and still they were saying so much. They had reminded her so much of * them * back then that she felt her heart skip a beat. 

She had missed the moment the teenagers seemed to have forgiven him, but re-entered the present when they proclaimed they were going to Pop's for celebratory Milkshakes. She had been confused when he handed over the keys to his truck, and so had his son. Apparently, the two adults had something to discuss and they would meet them for lunch in an hour. That seemed to have been a good enough explanation, for the kids quickly said their good-byes and were out the door before she had realized they would be completely alone in the house. It should have scared her, she wasn't the type to cheat on anybody, let alone a husband, but it didn't. What * did *, however, had been the way she'd reverted back to flirting the moment there had been no one around to overhear. 

“You do know there * is * nothing to discuss between us, right?” The corners of her lips had quirked up into a smile, trailing her fingertips along the edge of the counter. She had stopped right beside him, just shy of touching him. 

“Does he come by the house during the day?” The last thing either of them had wanted was to think about her husband, but it had been a valid question, because they didn't need him walk through the door right now, either. 

“Only when he knows I'm not home” Her car's parked clearly in the driveway. 

And suddenly she had been sitting on one of the bar stools, her legs tightly wound around his hips, his tongue in her mouth and she had felt like she's in heaven. He had fucked her right there, not bothering to relieve any of them off more clothing than strictly necessary. After, they had made themselves presentable again, gotten into her car and met up with their children. On the drive both of them had made it very clear, that * this * was never to be done again. So, for the last week she had been showing up at his trailer at least once a day. 

Sitting next to him in a booth at Pop's diner a week later is somewhat of a surprise to her. He's been spending time with the children after his apology, she knows that, but apparently this new development means he has to get along with her, too. Neither of the kids know just how well they actually * get along * and they plan to keep it that way, but having a casual dinner with the father of her daughter's boyfriend, who coincidentally happens to be the man she's been sleeping with, proves to be rather difficult. 

The teenagers across from them seem not to notice how they try not to look at each other too long, or try to avoid touching each other at all. They are so absorbed in each other, that, half-way through their meal, his hand comes to rest on her thigh, fingers tracing her skin under the hem of her skirt. She almost jumps out if her seat when she feels his warm touch on her leg. But she's determined not to let him get to her, at least not here, with people and * their children * around, so she sends him a quick glance out off the corner of her eye and focuses her attention back onto the conversation with the children. She sees him smirk, casually re-joining the talk, too, while his fingers travel further up her thigh, pushing the skirt out of the way as best as he could. 

She bears it a whole five minutes, before she inconspicuously squirms in her seat, in turn giving him better access to her skin. She's glad the way she's sitting prevents him from reaching exactly where he wants to be, her panties are way too damp with arousal right now not to call it embarrassing. And by the way he looks at her, all smug and hot, she's sure he knows that. Another five minutes later and she can't really take it anymore, has no idea how to get out of this though, and then he finally says something she could pretend to be offended by. When she drags him out of the booth with the made up excuse of needing to shout at him without their children around she involuntarily catches a glimpse of his crotch and she knows his comment had been on purpose. She skillfully maneuvers him away from their table, hiding his obvious erection from general onlookers. 

She looks at him like she wants nothing more than to kill him right on the spot, and it's all he can do not to laugh. She's putting on a show for the kids tracking their every movement until they are out of sight, around the corner, but he's certain she hasn't been pleased with his teasing either. 

When she stops, it's secluded enough that nobody would see them if they didn't come looking for them. He remembers the spot; it's where they used to sneak off to two decades earlier, and by the look on her face, she still knows that, too. 

He's kissing her before she can utter a single word, he's too afraid she'll actually start yelling at him and she lets him for a while, feeling too good to make it stop. Then she pulls back, turns them around so he's with his back against the outer walls of Pop's diner and rids him of his pants in a matter of seconds.

“Alice” He breathes out when she sinks onto her knees in front of him. She hasn't done this to him in twenty years, but he remembers she used to be pretty good at it. 

“Shut up” She hisses back through her teeth. Hands braced against his thighs, she looks up at him through half lidded eyes and it's the hottest thing he has seen all day and he has to close his eyes to not embarrass himself. “I don't need people walking in on us” 

And she realizes with a certain clarity, that it's not the * us * she's worried about. She's not about to tell around town that her perfect marriage is a wreck and she's screwing her high school boyfriend on the side, but she doesn't really care if people would know she's with him in general. She's just not keen on someone walking in on her blowing * anyone * in a dark corner of a public parking lot. 

She gives a light squeeze to his thighs, hoping to convey what she's feeling and she thinks he gets it, and then his head hits the wall behind him when her mouth closes over his erection. His hands find their way into her hair, not to guide her, but to hold on to something. She works him quick and skillfully and he briefly has to wonder how often she'd done that to her husband, or if this is a skill you don't lose without practice. And then he doesn't think anything anymore for a good while. 

He opens his eyes again when he feels her pull his boxers back over his hips. When she reaches down to pick up his pants, he stops her, turns them around and they're kissing again until he starts to push up her skirt. That's when she pushes him away with a small shake of her head. 

“There's no time” She's right, of course. Their children are waiting inside, hoping they'd settle their argument. So he reaches for his jeans and gets dressed again, while she tries to smooth out the hair he's messed up. 

“You're coming over tonight though?” It's a question he doesn't have to ask, but she nods anyway, pulling him in for another kiss. 

Then she looks him over, making sure he looks presentable enough to rejoin the kids and, more importantly, * not * like they had done what they just did. She let's him do the same to her, smiling when he pulls her skirt as far down over her knees as possible. 

“Not even * I * can come up with a good excuse for those bruises on your knees”


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda writing itself right now, since I gave it an actual chance to, so here is Chapter 4 for you guys. Read, Enjoy, Review :)

“I haven't had a real, civil conversation with my husband in ten days, and you decide it's appropriate to give me hickey?” She's getting dressed in front of the small mirror in his bedroom, him watching from the bed. It's early and it's the first time she actually stayed over, but now she has to hurry, sneaking back into her house before her daughter wakes. 

Had this happened earlier, when she had still been with her husband, she would have still hidden it, because you just don't * do * hickeys, but she at least would not have to explain herself if somebody saw. Not even to said husband, since she had a way of convincing him of everything she said, so she would have found a way to make him believe he'd given it to her. 

But now? Her children know she's not speaking to their father and they know she's definitively * not * doing anything with him that would result in a love bite. And as much as the girls seem to be pretty sure their parents are heading towards a divorce there's still no way she could let either of them see it. Even if they wouldn't completely freak about their still married mother seeing someone, they would want to be introduced. 

And how do you explain to your children that you have two decades worth of history with one of their boyfriend's father, that you recently rekindled? Especially when you can't even say * what * exactly you are rekindling?! She knows they both have feelings for another, had for the last twenty years, but they had been sleeping together for the last eight days and not one conversation about what they are doing had been brought up. For all she knew, this could only be sex, incredibly good sex, but still nothing else. 

“I could give you a matching one on the other side. I'm sure the symmetry would look even better” The corners of his mouth go up in a smile and she almost forgets that she needs to be angry with him. He catches her gaze in the mirror and no matter what else she says now, he can see she's not actually mad. 

“This isn't funny” She tries nevertheless. She turns around when he gets out of bed, not bothering with a stitch of clothing. There's nothing she hasn't seen or touched before and it's still his house, he can walk around however the hell he pleases. Her gaze travels downward, feels herself responding rather vividly to what she sees, takes a look at her watch and with a sigh realizes they really don't have time for this. 

He doesn't seem to mind, as he walks over to her, placing soft kisses in the exact spot he had promised the new love bite to be. Her finger rake through his short hair immediately, like they have a mind of their own and she tilts her head to give him better access. “I didn't hear you complaining when I put it there last night” A nibble to her sensitive flesh and she moans, pushing herself closer to him. “Or now for that matter” She feels the smug smile against her throat. 

She's not able to respond in words though. He has reduced her to a mouth useless of speaking; a brain useless of thinking straight. She needs a whole thirty seconds to realize, that the hands on her back, working open her bra, are her own. But when she finally does, she lets it hit the floor with an audible sound that gets his attention, lets him push her panties back down her legs and drags him back to bed. 

“There better not be another hickey tomorrow” She only manages to get this out because she's scooted up the mattress and he had to let go of her neck for just that long for them to get comfortable again. 

“You're no fun” He won't do it if she doesn't want him to, but he loves to tease her, so he dips his head again, tongue sweeping over the tender flesh he had been nibbling on. 

“I didn't hear you complaining last night” Her voice can't hold the serious tone when he laughs into her neck. “And if we're really going to do this, you better hurry up, because - “ The rest of her sentence is swallowed by the moan coming from her lips when his hand moves over her wet center. 

“It's not like you can't pretend you don't want this either” He laughs, but stops his teasing. They really don't have much time and he needs her and he's fairly certain she would just leave him to take care of things himself if they don't get on with it soon. She * does * need to get home before they are found out. The last thing he wants to be is the reason she's been whispered over behind her back. 

She reaches up to pull his mouth back to her's in a languid, passionate kiss and he shifts between her legs for more leverage before slowly sliding into her. She responds immediately by slinging her legs over his hips and urging him to move. So he does, setting a lazy rhythm, resisting her attempts to make him move faster, only releasing her lips for them both to take a much needed breath before reconnecting them again. She holds him to her with one hand fixed in his hair, the other tangled in the bed sheets while matching his pace stroke for stroke. 

He keeps this up for as long as he can, holding back, wanting her to shatter under him first. When he feels her getting close, he brings his hand between them, to the point where they are so intimately joined. With the first touch of his fingers on her clit she comes around him, his name on her lips, pulling him over the edge with her. 

They lay there catching their breaths for a while. Then he kisses her and gets up from the bed, pulls on some pants and leaves to let her get dressed before he takes her to bed again. She's glad for the moment of privacy where she stays exactly where she is, getting lost in her thoughts. 

This was the first time they had actually made love. For over a week they had been frantically fucking each other when – and wherever they felt the urge to, but this was different. She's spend the night in his bed, sleeping nestled against his side, waking up to him kissing her softly on the lips. She had tried to run then, the fact that she really needed to leave making it seem less obvious that she was afraid. No matter what she feels for him and no matter the state of her marriage, she * does * still have a husband. Not to mention, that loving him had broken her heart once before. 

But he had read her right away, giving her the space she needed to get dressed and gather her thoughts – until she had complained about the hickey. Then he had taken a chance. 

She gets up finally, puts her clothes back on and meets him in the kitchen. He's sipping on a cup of hot coffee, an empty mug sitting beside the coffeepot. He hasn't prepared it for her, and she smiles at that. It's her decision if she wants to stay for breakfast. So he * does * know what's going on inside her head. She walks over to him, crowds into his personal space when she extricates the cup out of his hand and takes a sip. Then she leans up and kisses him. 

“Next time” She whispers, accepts another kiss from his lips. 

She leaves five minutes later, incredibly behind schedule and she probably won't make it to work on time. She shrugs her shoulders to herself at that, let her husband wonder why she's late. 

She makes it home just in time to sneak into her bedroom and get out of her clothes and into a robe, before she hears her daughter making her way down the stairs. She checks herself over in the mirror, hides the love bite under the collar of her robe and leaves for the kitchen. She'll look suspicious enough not being ready for work yet, no need for her daughter to get no glimpse of her but seeing her car in the driveway. She can always claim a head ache. 

“Good morning, Elizabeth” She doesn't cal her that often, and mostly only when she's in trouble, but this morning she's off her game. She smiles at the smell of the coffee her daughter had put on for her, mentally standing in another kitchen about half an hour ago. She almost misses her daughter's worried glance. 

“Are you okay mom?” She's never set foot in the kitchen before her shower on a work day. Maybe she should have showered at his place, maybe * with * him. And she puts a stop to this thoughts before she starts blushing in front of her daughter. She doesn't really need this right now. She's not going to explain anything before she herself know what she'll even has to explain. 

“Of course” She puts on a convincing smile and checks the progress of her coffee. “It's Friday, what are your plans for the weekend?” Changing the subject when she doesn't like the ongoing conversation, she's always been good at that. She fills her mug with steaming coffee and turns around just to see her daughter trying to hide a nervous smile. A raised eyebrow breaks the girl's silence. 

“About that” Damn, she got this from her, busying herself with adding more cereal to her breakfast to forestall any talk. “I was actually hoping I could invite Jughead and his father for dinner tonight. Polly promised to be there, too.” 

“Betty...” She's cut off before she can say anything else.

“And I know you guys aren't talking, but I want dad to be there, too. No matter what's going on between the two of you, he's still my dad and Jug's my boyfriend.”

No. No way. This is in no way happening. She can't, for the life of her, not spend an evening wanting to jump his bones just from looking at him, with the husband she's cheating on sitting on her other side. Not to mention the daughter who's boyfriend's father she's cheating * with * - and said boyfriend. 

“Of course” Where had that come from? She wasn't even finished listing all the reasons why this is a bad idea. But the hopeful look in her daughter's eyes decided for her. “I can tell your father at work later” 

“Thank you” This is still a bad idea. 

“Of course” She repeats. Now she just has to find a way to make this less awkward. 

“Oh and one more thing” She lets out a sigh. She should have seen that coming. She had hoped she has a few more days before she has to address the situation with her husband. “Can I spend the night at Jug's?” This is not the questions she had been expecting.

“I'm sure Fred Andrew's has enough to do with two boys under his roof” She's not technically saying no, but as much as she wants to think about her daughter being the good girl, she still doesn't think she wants to spend the night sleeping on a mattress on the floor in Archie's room. 

“At his dad's trailer. Jug says his father offered him the trailer more than once recently if he ever needed it. Apparently he has somewhere else to stay for a night every once in a while” She chokes on her coffee at that. No. No way. She knows her daughter and she knows Jughead, but still. No. 

She also knows exactly where he intends to stay when he's not sleeping in his trailer but his hinges solely on her allowing her daughter to spend the night with his son. “There will be no activity that involves less clothing than pajamas” Again, this is * not * what she was supposed to say. She knows exactly why she did though, and she sees the irony in practically forbidding her daughter to have sex with her boyfriend, while she's eagerly agreed to this so * she * could have sex with * her * boyfriend – or whatever they are to each other. 

“Mooom!” She can't tell if it's protest to the content of her condition or to the fact that she dared to hint at the act of sleeping together. 

“I mean it Betty!” It doesn't matter, she decides. Better make it clear once again. An eye roll and a smile is what she receives and while there hasn't been a promise in so many words, she trusts her daughter. And if Betty decides to do it anyway, there's really nothing she can do about it in the end. 

She promises to leave the Register early today to get groceries and prepare dinner for tonight and then she sends her daughter off to school. On the way to the bathroom for her much needed shower She grabs her phone and types out a message. 

* Do you already know you're having dinner with the whole family tonight? * 

His reply is instantaneously, as if he had been waiting by the phone for her. 

* Yes *

Then, 

* Am I staying? *


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize a thousand times for making promises I couldn't keep but here's the Chapter you've been waiting for :)

Dinner is the most awkward thing she's done in a good while, and that includes a whole lot of things recently. But sitting across from him at the table with so many people around she can't act on any of the ideas her mind is so unhelpfully providing, tops all of that. 

Her husband next to her, desperately trying to reach out to her whenever he can to make this evening look normal and to maybe finally earn his forgiveness. The man she actually wants in front of her, desperately trying * not * to reach out to her whenever he can to not give away anything. This is such a bad idea, and she curses herself all through their meal for having agreed to this. It's easier when it's just the four of them, the adults sitting on one side of the diner booth and the children on the other. They don't have an audience that could accidentally spy what they're trying to hide since the teenagers are mostly too occupied with themselves to notice anything suspicious that might be going on. 

This is her whole family sitting down to dinner in her house with him and his son. There's a husband and a second daughter to fool, not to mention that this whole idea was to get to know each other, so naturally the younger couple participate in their surroundings more than usual. She tries to ask him as few questions as possible while not to seem disinterested or rude and he's doing just the same. Conversation around the table is flowing freely but conversation between them is as limited as necessary. They can't help sending glances across the table and more than once she sees him biting his lip to keep from smiling or saying something he definitively shouldn't and finds herself doing the same. 

What makes this even more uncomfortable is the fact that, to their children's knowledge, he doesn't know anything about her marriage problems. And to keep this facade up she has to pretend to be the happy wife and she's rather sure she's fooling exactly no one. It gives her husband a chance to prove that he still cares, that he still wants to make this marriage work and that he's sorry for what he did and for not telling her everything, but in all honesty she doesn't think she wants that. 

There's no way, not for all the status and money in the world, she would have stayed married to a man for almost twenty years if she hadn't loved him or if she hadn't been happy. It had never only been the children that kept her there (she's still mourning * their * child all the time, too), but all that doesn't change the fact, that she's never been as happy with her husband than she had been with him. Even in their worst days she had felt more lively than the last twenty years combined. 

So, sometime during a dinner that is not supposed to be about her or him or * them * she comes to the realization that she wants him. Then, now and in the future. But she's married, has two beautiful children, her first grandchildren on the way.

And he's the father of her daughter's boyfriend. 

He's from the South side. 

A serpent. 

And she should never have given him up. 

That's when she excuses herself from the table, claiming to bring dessert out in a moment, refusing her daughter's help. She needs a moment away from her family, to be alone. Well, not completely.   
She knows there's only one person around the table who drinks coffee all day round and so she offers him some with a raised eyebrow that, luckily, fails to attract anyone's attention but his. He accepts gladly, offers to help, she refuses halfheartedly but he insists and she reluctantly gives in, turns in her heels and walks towards the kitchen. He follows behind her slowly and watches her from the doorway for a minute. 

She's busying herself with opening and closing cabinets and drawers, producing a cake and plates and forks. When she pulls the ground coffee beans from the shelf above her head his fingers close over her's. He proceeds to fill the tank with water all the while watching her. He doesn't really * want * coffee but they would look extremely suspicious walking back into the dining room without it. 

While the machine works he finds her leaning against the counter with nothing to do anymore and with a quick glance around he's in front of her in a few fast steps. There's no time for her to protest, not that he really thought she would, before he settles his lips over her's. She sweeps her tongue inside his eager mouth without a second thought, pushing closer, pulling him nearer. The edge of the counter digs painfully into her back but she finds she doesn't care. They kiss for a long while, absently keeping and ear out for any sounds or footsteps coming their way. It's highly exhilarating, knowing their families are in the next room and that anyone could walk in on them at any given moment. 

She finally pushes him away when she feels his hands traveling up the inside of her thighs, his goal abundantly clear. They are both breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other while trying to force air into their lungs. 

“Are you insane?” She finally manages to get out between her teeth. She doesn't regret their impromptu make-out session, but does he seriously think it's appropriate to try to fuck her right now? And oh god, she would have let him, consequences be damned.

“I wasn't the one practically dragging you in here” That smug smile again. She hates it so much she wants to kiss it from his face. She could. She does. She has nothing to say to this anyway. 

When they are finally re-joining the others they look as if nothing had happened and she doesn't feel the slightest bit less conflicted than she had before. She should have gone alone, should have used that time to think about what she had just uncovered, but no. She's been wanting to kiss him ever since the moment he'd walked through the door (more likely since she'd left him this morning) and when the opportunity had arisen, she couldn't pass it up. With a heavy sigh she sits back down, praying the evening would be over soon. It's not really helping, that she knows she'll have him all to herself then. 

Her pregnant daughter is the first to excuse herself, feeling tired and having been on her feet for to long. She hates herself for it, but she's glad the girl is leaving because that means her husband is dropping their daughter off and then heading to wherever he's been staying for the last weeks. She hugs her daughter goodbye at the door and completely ignores her husband since there's no one around to pretend for. She smiles when she sees the motorcycle in the driveway. 

He had given his son permission to use his truck again and driven over separately so the kids wouldn't have to drop him at his destination later. They'd agreed he would leave with the children, then circle around and park the bike out of sight. She would leave the backdoor unlocked for him; the front door seemed too risky even in the dark. 

She refuses again her daughter's attempt to help clean up but shoos the three of them out off the house rather quickly, too. There has to surely be more interesting things to do than spend the evening with her. The kids just leave to get their things, but he responds with a smirk and a comment that makes her blush a deeper red than all the fires of hell combined. She'll make him pay for that later, she decides, when three innocent voices ask her if she's alright. When they finally leave, she heaves a sigh of relief. 

She waits for him in the living room ten minutes later, casually leaning against the back of the couch. The first thing she does is pull him to her, fusing their lips together in a heated kiss and guides his hand back under her skirt. He doesn't hesitate in what he knows she wants him to do and the sounds coming from her mouth as she melts into his skilled touch spur him on even more. It takes all of a few strokes of his fingers and one gentle brush of his thumb over her clit and she's falling apart, throwing her head into her neck and screwing her eyes shut in pleasure. She's still catching her breath when he steps further into her embrace and places a few soft kisses behind her ear. 

“Was this as excruciating as I thought it was?” It's nothing more than a whisper and he's not sure if she just hasn't found her voice yet of if she doesn't want to disturb the calm around them. Either way, his reply comes equally as low. 

“I rather thought you looked like you enjoyed that” More kisses against her soft flesh, and then he lets out a laugh when she punches him in the shoulder. 

“Jerk” He's still laughing at her. “You know what I mean” 

He doesn't respond in words at first, just nodding his agreement into her shoulder. She's playing with the soft hair at the base of his neck, while his are around her waist, holding her tight to him. This is different, intimate and caring. Maybe the time has come for a talk. “You think it would have been easier when we still hated each other?” They never really did though. 

“No, I wanted to jump your bones back then, too” 

“Yea, me too” It's as far in conversation as they come tonight, because she pushes up on her tip-toes, kissing his lips lightly and then entwines her fingers with his and leads him up the stairs to her bedroom. 

He's never been in there, has actually never sat foot into her house for as long as he had today, but he doesn't look around. He knows that her husband isn't living here right now, probably never would (at least not with her) and he has no right to be jealous of any indication of Hal's presence but that doesn't mean he wants to find one either. He turns around closing the door behind him and doesn't bother locking it. They are completely alone in the house and from what he gathered so far her husband doesn't show up unannounced. At least not when she's home. When he turns back to follow her into the room he almost trips over the heels she's abandoned in her wake. And then he stops in his tracks and has to catch his breath at the sight before him of her already half undressed, hair falling loosely over her shoulder and that teasing half-smile on her lips. It seems to say * what are you waiting for? * 

And so he doesn't. His shoes and shirt lining the path he just took he gathers her close, kissing the hickey she'd complained about this morning. He loves that she doesn't cover it up with make-up. While he's divesting her of her bra, leaving her in nothing but a pair of black silk panties, she rids him off his jeans and boxer shorts in one movement and he hisses against her shoulder when she takes hold of the obvious sing of his arousal. The smile on her lips widens and she extricates herself from his arms. Her panties join the rest of their clothing on the floor but when she turn to head over to the bed he doesn't let her go far. Just pulls her back to his front and holds her there. 

Her head lolls back onto his shoulder to give him better access to her neck; his hands are slowly exploring every inch of her body he can reach. Her skin feels like it's on fire and she moans loudly when one of his hands tease the already tender flesh of her breast and the other dips between her legs. With his head bend and his mouth directly against her ear she hears his low chuckle immediately. It takes her a moment to form a response though. 

“What?” He doesn't say a single word but only places a soft kiss in the exact spot he's teased to mark her hours earlier. She doesn't bother acknowledging this revelation either. It's done, there's nothing she can do about it now other than try to prevent any further love bites. At least in places visible to the public. 

He leads her to the bed then, just stands there and looks at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's seen in all his life. He's not sure if he can actually tell her that, but it's the truth even. She kisses him deeply and thoroughly when he comes to her and then she turns them over, pushes him onto his back among her satin sheets and straddles him. She sinks down on him slowly, savoring the incredibly feeling of being filled by him and then her fingers entwine with his on her hips and she starts moving. 

They are getting lost in each others eyes and the only time she breaks the intense connection is when she throws her head back and falls apart around him and him in her.


	6. Part 6

It's not until the early hours of the morning that they finally fall asleep. They had made love more than once, teased, flirted and talked about trivial things, all the while ignoring the elephant in the room. This has progressed from an emotionless fling (if it had ever been one that is) to something so much more and so much deeper. They both know it and they have both already accepted it and admitted to themselves that a conversation about what's going on between them is in order. They had just been to afraid to bring it up yet, and if not forced into acting they would probably play this game for the foreseeable future and beyond. 

He tells himself that she's still better off without him and she tells herself that maybe things with her husband can still work out. They both don't believe it, but the alternative would mean a shattered marriage, a broken family and a wrecked reputation she had worked so hard to uphold. So he keeps quiet for her and she keeps quiet because she knows he would want her to. 

Their children are another factor. So what should they ever find out the prim and proper Mrs. Cooper used to be a Southside serpent? It's not like she thinks she can hide it from her daughters forever anyway. She's even surprised they don't know yet, given that they walk the same school hallways their mother used to wreak havoc in. Maybe it would not even matter to them that she * used * to be dating the trouble and dangerous Mr. Jones. The past is past, nothing to be done about it now. They could laugh about it, tell a few jokes or tales about their younger days, leave it at that. 

And maybe, there could be circumstances where the kids would not even mind them being together in the present. They don't think that very likely, not because of who either of them * is * or * was * but because them being together indicates the definite end of her marriage. That's a hard pill to swallow for every child, no matter how old or independent they are. 

The very prominent problem here though, lies in the fact that her daughter is dating his son. It's bad enough to be screwing the parent of you child's significant other and there's no way they would ever be cool with it if they found out. There's no chance in hell a real, public relationship is ever blessed in the children's eyes. 

Lastly, he had let her go once before so she could live the life she always wanted to have, so who was he to again drag her down the hole she so desperately wanted to escape from twenty years before. He wants her to be happy, because that's what you do for the people you love, and he knows she will be happier here. With a husband who loves her, two daughters who adore her despite not always showing it and without any scandal. She's worked so hard to become the respectable suburban housewife and mother and that's her life now and honestly he doesn't know how he would fit into all of this. 

* She's * not sure if she still wants all of that. She did once, and would have done almost anything to get it. She's just not convinced anymore that it had been worth it. She wouldn't trade her daughters for the world, but in recent days she can't help but think about how her life could have been if she had stayed, back then. What would have become of her if they had raised their son together. What would have become of her if she had married him like she had planned almost from the moment he'd asked her out. What would have become of * them *? 

Even back in her wilder and more adventurous days she would never have considered cheating, yet here she was, sleeping with another man. It had made her wonder more than once what it said about her that she couldn't have brought herself to be unfaithful to * him * but she hadn't thought twice about doing it to her husband. She's not a bad person, she tries to convince herself. She just happens to be incredibly in love with one man, and it's not the one she's married to. 

He's sleeping peacefully beside her, an arm slung around her waist, holding her close even in sleep. There's a contend smile on his lips that she longs to kiss, but she refrains from doing so. It would wake him and that, in turn, would end the opportunity for her to watch him. She traces the outline of his jaw and cheekbones, down his neck and shoulders without touching him and she can't remember the last time she just wanted to watch her husband sleep. She also can't seem to remember why she shouldn't be doing this. All of it. She leans forward then, brushing her lips against his just so slightly, a smile forming on her face when she feels him wake under her. 

And then their peaceful moment is interrupted by the loud banging of a door. His eyes snap open in an instant and he's about to get out off bed and dressed and probably out off the window or something before anyone can see him, but she just shakes her head and motions for him to settle back down. He's confused, but what he doesn't know is that what he heard had not been the front door. She swears she could almost feel the tremor rising through her from the impact when the bedroom door slammed shut behind her back. It doesn't matter if he stays now, he's been seen anyway. When she tells him as much, he apologizes for getting her into this mess, but she just shakes her head again and leans back down to kiss him again. She had known for days that she had a decision to make, and she had hoped to have a little more time still, but since this option has been taken from her, she does the only thing that makes sense to her right now. 

“I'm going down to talk to him” It could have been her daughter, which would make this conversation still pretty uncomfortable, but it's pretty unlikely that the girl would just walk into her mother's room like that. Without knocking and without announcing herself. The man who used to share room and bed with her not so long ago might not have such reservations. And it's completely unlikely that he'd left the house yet. Not without having the conversation she's been wiggling out off for almost two weeks now. “And I know, we don't talk about this, but I'm not going back to him” 

She's handed the ball back to him now. She made it clear that whatever happens or doesn't happen between them in the future, there is absolutely no saving her marriage. It's up to him now to make the next move. 

“Maybe we should” He kisses her again before she gets out off bed to find something to wear. “Talk about it, I mean” She has an internal debate over how cruel it would be to walk out of here in his shirt, reaches inside the dresser to don one of her own and decides it's definitively time for that talk. She smiles over at him, nods her head just once, blows him a playful kiss and walks out off the room before she decides to screw it all and not leave him at all. That's not an option. She knows that, so with a heavy breath she closes the door behind her and prepares herself for the confrontation with her husband. 

She finds Hal in the kitchen, leaning against the exact spot she's been making out with * him * last night and her stomach drops. She doesn't want Hal, doesn't love him like she does the man upstairs in her bedroom, but screwing someone behind his back; in his house? When did she determine that to be a good idea?! 

Twelve days ago, when she had kicked her husband out, she had two choices: Work it out or call it quits. Nowhere in there had been the option of stringing him along while she's sleeping around behind his back. She's paying for that now, because she feels like shit and it has absolutely zero to do with the fact that she's about to end her marriage. 

“Tell me you at least see the irony in that” He hadn't been cheating on her, that's true, but hadn't she, in the end, kicked him out for basically the same thing?! He'd lied to her and he'd betrayed her and what she did wasn't the slightest bit better – or different. 

He's not looking at her, still leaning against the counter top, staring out the window above the sink. For a moment she wonders how he'd known she was there but then she remembers that he used to live in this house, used to live with her and that he's probably accustomed to every creak and crack and the way her footsteps sound; even barefoot on the tiled kitchen floor. She feels a pang in her chest and, for just that tiniest of moments, she's not sure if it's because she's about to give this all up or because she's hurting him. He doesn't deserve this, that's for sure, but she finds she can't live like this anymore either. Not when she had a taste of what being with the man she had loved for the last two decades can be like. 

“Hal, I'm...” She has no idea what to say exactly. She could apologize, but what would that help anyone anyway? She has no right to ask for it, but she prays he would at least turn around and look at her. She can live with the hatred in his eyes, the resentment – anticipates it even – but this plain non-acknowledgment is almost too much for her. 

“You're what? Sorry?” When he finally turns, she suddenly wishes he hadn't after all. It's not the anger she came to expect, but what's looking at her is the face of sadness and disappointment. “Don't lie to me Alice.” She is about to protest, because no matter what else she is feeling and has no idea how to express it, she * is * sorry. Not for wanting to be with someone else, but for the way she'd gone about it; for hurting him. He lifts a hand, stopping her. Clearly he's not finished yet. “I've seen you with him just now. Where you ever that happy being with me? Or happy at all?”

The question cuts deep, because while she can answer the latter in the positive, the former is a clear * no *, when it shouldn't be. They are married for god's sake, haven been for almost twenty years, she should not be feeling happier and more in love with her High School boyfriend. She does though, and there's no need hiding it, because she can see, he knows that, too. 

“Of course” She doesn't clarify which question she's answering. He can read it in her face and she does hate herself just a little for that. 

“Why him?” It's nothing but a whisper and it sounds like he might be on the verge of letting a few tears slip. “You could have cheated on me with anyone, and I wouldn't have liked it. But FP Jones?” He takes another moment to gather his breath, then he looks her straight in the eye and asks the question he doesn't want an answer to. “How long has this been going on?” 

She sucks in a breath, feels like she's been punched in the gut. It's a valid question and that's what makes her so afraid of answering it. She'll tell him the truth, but that would not necessarily mean he'll believe her. Anyone else and he probably would have without second guessing it further. Hell, anyone else and he would have taken her back in a heartbeat if she had wanted him to. But she has history with the man in question, intimate and passionate at that, and she'd fully understand if he'll question her honesty here. It doesn't make it sting any less though. 

“Nine days. It started after you moved out” After she made him leave, is what she means and the glare he sends in her direction tells her he'll always call it that, too. If it had been up to him, they would have talked it over then and there, he would have begged for forgiveness on his hands and knees if necessary and they would have been going on with their lives as usual. 

She has no other words and it bothers her extremely. She had been intend on saying so many things, making it clear their marriage is over and yelling at him some just to tell herself it's not her fault and then coming face to face with him, she realized that it * was * and all the fight left her. They'll have to talk, they'll have to make arrangements, they'll have to sit down with their kids. They'll definitively have to file for divorce. But neither of them seems to be in the right mood to do any of this now. They don't even care enough to shout. 

He fumbles in his pocket for a moment, and then produces his house key to place it in front of him. This is over and he hates her for betraying him like that, but he's already not sleeping at home anyway and so he gives her the opportunity to stay; keep the house and the reputation she'd earned so hard. Whatever there will still be left of it after. 

When he leaves without looking at her again, she takes a deep breath, turns to go back to her bedroom, to the man she's almost free to be with. What she hadn't expected was to literally run into her daughter and her boyfriend in the hallway. They've obviously been looking for her – the girl is holding her old Serpent Jacket.


	7. Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just came back from a trip where no one bothered to tell me I would not have internet access, or else I would have uploaded this days ago. But after seeing Mädchen Amicks instagram/twitter post and this one particular picture I can't get over, I decided I needed to get this out before the new episode is available for me thursday.

Five whole minutes, that's how long it takes before she finds the words to say * anything *. She does realize that by that point pretending is useless, but her daughter clutching the worn-out leather jacket to her chest had surprised her just that bit too much. 

This jacket could belong to anyone. They've obviously found it in the Serpent's current leader's trailer; it's probably not unusual to find serpent clothing lying around. He used to be married, he has two children and a flock of teenagers following his every order – this jacket could belong to any of them. This jacket could belong to * anyone *.

So, it has her name stitched onto the front, but still... The kids don't know she used to be a south side serpent, so really 'Alice' adorning an old jacket doesn't mean it's her. It has both their names and a '4ever' mended into the inside, too along with something that was supposed to resemble a heart. She had been proud of herself for being able to make the letters readable twice, she hadn't paid much attention to the symbol. His looked marginally better. She finds herself wondering if he's still wearing the same jacket he had back then, if he's still wearing her name everywhere he goes and that's when she mentally slaps herself to get back into the present. 

Two teenagers are staring at her, her daughter's holding out the jacket to her as if she doesn't know what to do with it and Alice still has no idea how to address the situation. What's for sure, is that pretending not to know who's jacket that is is out off the question. You don't stare wide-eyed at something you don't recognize. That doesn't mean she can't try to divert the conversation to something different and try to distract the children from what they'd found and what they'd undoubtedly want to ask. 

“I didn't expect to see you so early” Obviously or she wouldn't have let him stay over, then again she hadn't planned on her husband walking in on them either. “I was just about to make breakfast, have you eaten yet?” She * was * just about to go back upstairs and finish where they had left off, but she couldn't actually tell the children that. Suddenly she's acutely aware that all she's wearing is panties and a shirt that's a bit too revealing for her current situation, and it's probably the most her daughter has ever seen of her and way more than her boyfriend ever needed to see. 

“Mom, what is that?” The item in question is thrust into her hands and though she tries to hide it, it gives her a stark feeling of nostalgia. She hasn't touched one of these since she'd left her's in his home twenty years ago. 

“That is a jacket, Betty” She shrugs her shoulders, tries to hand it back, but the girl won't take it. She let's an annoyed eye-roll accompany the gesture. 

“It has your name on it” One of the teenagers is looking at her expectantly, while she notices the other one is actively trying to look anywhere but at her. Guess he's as uncomfortable with her state of (un)dress as she is. 

“No, it has * a * name on it.” Her head rises a little higher, eyes fixed intently on her daughter. This is her chance to lie herself out off this. “I'm sure I'm not the only Alice that ever used to live in this town” Then she turns and takes a few steps up the stairs, still wishing to wrap this awkward conversation as fast as possible. She stops when her daughter reaches out and presses something into her other hand. 

“So, what's that then?” 

She doesn't need to look at it to know what she's holding in her hand. Damn, she had thought she would never see this picture again. It's the first one of them they ever took and it's as incriminating as if she'd call him down right. It's off center because he took it himself, but the arm not holding the camera is slung over her, their fingers entwined on her shoulder. She has her dead turned, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth and it's so unmistakably her that even a blind man could see that. 

She had taken that photo with her everywhere she went for almost two years, in the inside pocket of her serpent jacket. She had no idea that it even still existed, just like the jacket itself. This is not how she expected her past to catch up with her, but there seems to be no other way than to confront it now. 

“Alright, living-room” She tried to make her point by gesturing them out off the hall. “I'm getting dressed, then we can talk” Not surprisingly, it's Jughead who leaps onto the opportunity to end the awkwardness first. She doesn't know it, but the boy has just seen his girlfriend's mother in less clothing than he'd ever seen his girlfriend in and he doesn't need to drag this out any further. 

“This is not something you can wiggle your way out off, Mom” She knows that, and though it's her signature move for conversations she doesn't want to have, she won't this time. Her marriage to her daughters' father is over and she's about to commit to a relationship with the father of the boy standing across from her. There has to be talk and explanations in the very near future anyway, so she thinks it best to maybe get some of those out of the way now. 

“I promise I'll be right back” And then she leaves them standing there, heading up to her bedroom to find something suitable to wear, all the while thinking about what to do with the man waiting for her there. She can't hide him in there forever but she's not sneaking him out off the window like some criminal either. There's really only one solution, but she's not sure how comfortable either of them are with it. 

He's watching her from the bed when she closes the door after her, her hands behind her back and her shoulders leaning against the wood. She can't help the smile when she sees him, half dressed, waiting for her. The smile seems to encourage him, makes him finally believe, that whatever happened down there, she's here with him right now. 

“Are you coming back to bed?” He doesn't really think so. A conversation between them held in bed would definitively not touch on any of the important things it should. 

“No” It's not as determined as she had planned it to be, but the prospect of spending some more time with him up here is so much more enticing than what she's actually about to do. 

“Can I come downstairs then?” She still looks indecisive leaning against the door, just watching him, still he gets up in search for his shirt. Her husband can't be here anymore or she would not have come back already, she might be dumping him but she won't be that cruel to his face. 

“That's up to you, I guess” And she tosses the leather jacket she'd been hiding behind her back onto the bed. “Our children are downstairs, asking questions” A raised eyebrow, then. “I thought you got rid of this” 

She's not really mad he kept it, if she's honest with herself she loves the idea, would have probably done the same if the roles had been reversed. It would have saved them a whole lot of explaining right now though. At least that's what she'd like to think. 

“Are you crazy?” He follows her movements through the room while she's getting dressed more decently. She glares at him when he laughs at her when she switches one shirt for another with a not so revealing neckline. The two almost symmetric love bites on her neck are still very prominent. “I'm still wearing mine” 

She stills in her tracks when she hears that. She had been wondering that earlier, rather hoped he would actually, but hearing him say it makes her heart flutter. So it's really not just her that couldn't stop loving him all these years. She changes from one shirt to the other without missing a beat, it's nothing he hasn't seen before after all, and moves into his personal space to drop a kiss onto his lips. When he pulls back he seems to catch up with the situation. And he comes to the same conclusion she'd had too late earlier. 

“How'd they know it's yours?” * He * knows it is and he reaches out to take it from the spot she'd thrown it. He turns over the waistband and traces her handiwork of pink threat sewn into the leather. He can't help the smile and he leans forward to kiss her again. This time his tongue sneaks past her lips and it's all she can do to end the kiss after too long a time. 

“They also found the photo” She's a bit breathless and so it seems is he, since he doesn't have an answer to that. He had known the picture existed and exactly where it had been, but he hadn't planned on anyone ever finding the jacket, let alone go through its pockets and produce the photo. He's been the only one in the last twenty years that had laid eyes on it. 

“Sorry” He eventually says with a shrug. She tells him to not be because she isn't. Is this pretty inconvenient right this moment? Yes, no doubt, but it's also the push they needed in order to finally move this forward. Or not – after all they still did not have that particular conversation yet. 

She has to mentally slap herself to get her feet moving away from him and to the door. “So are you coming or not?” One corner of her mouth lifts up in a smirk. Again, she's made it clears where she stands in all this, it's up to him now to take the next step. If he's not comfortable with being confronted by their children, or if he thinks this will not progress far enough to make a talk with their kids necessary, then he doesn't have to join them. 

“Why don't you go deal with your serpent past and I'll join you later to spring this news on them?” He settles back onto the bed, watches her reaction intently. He really wants this thing to work between them and he really doesn't want to say the wrong thing here. 

“Coward” She laughs at him before opening the door and leaving it ajar so he can keep track of their conversation. 

Back downstairs she finds the kids have actually relocated to the living room and are not waiting for her at the foot of the stairs anymore. They even made a pot of coffee and she's incredibly thankful for that, because she needs it for this conversation. She takes a seat in the armchair across from the kids, thinking of a way to best start this, but her daughter beats her to it. 

“So you used to be a Serpent?” Short and to the point, it's what she would have focused on first, too. 

“A long time ago, yes” Had this room always been this uncomfortable to be in? 

“You hate the South Side, you always told us to stay far away from everyone associated with it” There are multiple answers going through her mind to that, but she thinks none of them are appropriate. Dating the current serpent leader's son obviously shows that her daughter had not taken that advice to heart all that much. And isn't * she * about to go back to the very place she didn't want her children to hang around? She tries another approach then. 

“I wasn't keeping that fact from you, I just tried to forget my past and move on” Great, that should have worked on her favor. She's good at making people feel guilty. 

“You mean move on from my father?” Or maybe she just opened herself up for the next topic she wants to avoid. They can't in no way be through discussing her serpent times, but the fact that she used to date his father seems to be the more prominent thought on their minds. 

“Yes” She lets out a sigh. She said she'd do this and so she's not backing out now. “Your father and I dated in High School” 

“How...?” Her daughter's shocked enough by the casual admittance that she doesn't really know what to say. 

“We grew up together. We used to hate each other and then be best friends again an hour later.” She smiles at the thought of them as kids. She hasn't thought about those times on a long while. Looking back on it, she actually never hated him, she just liked to see him all irritated and he did the same with her. “We started dating around my 16th birthday, been together for just under two years. We were reckless and in love and I never wanted to spend my whole life over there, so he let me go when * your * father took an interest in me.” She hasn't told that story in a long while either. 

“Did you love Dad? Does he know all this?” The girl looks seriously terrified of her answer. 

“Yes, he does, and of course I did” Neither of them misses the way she used past tense here. “And I love you and Polly, too. There's nothing that can ever change that. No matter what you might think right now, I never regretted you children or didn't want you” 

She can't read her daughter's mind, of course, but the way her eyes grow bigger with every passing second, it's clear the girl had come to some conclusion. It doesn't take long for her to voice it though. “My brother...” The teen trails off, not sure how to say what she just discovered.

“Is not your father's son” She had been planning to keep this a secret, too, just like she had never wanted to tell her children about the boy she gave up for adoption in the first place. 

“Is that why you and my father hate each other?” Her daughter's too shocked to say anything else, she's gripped her boyfriend's hand in hers to stop her from digging her nails into her palms. This is just too much for her. 

“Jughead, your father and I” she stops for a moment, thinking about how best to put what she wants to say. She's nervously fumbling with the collar of her shirt and decides to just put it as simple as she can. “We don't hate each other” 

Neither of them gets a chance to say anything more to that, when her daughter suddenly finds her voice again. “Oh my god, Mom, what is that on your neck?” Shit, she'd forgotten all about the reason she'd worn that shirt in the first place. 

“I guess this might not have been the best moment to join the conversation”


	8. Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my freaking god!!! This last episode, I'm still not a hundred percent sure if I didn't die... my fangirl heart can't takes this any longer, just get them to the making-out point already... and when he told her to leave her husband (...at home), this little pause and her reaction had my heart practically stop!!! 
> 
> Anyway, after seeing that masterpiece of an episode, I couldn't * not * write this today. 
> 
> As always, enjoy and let me know what you think :)

Three pairs of eyes fix on him and he sends an apologetic look in her direction. He had been listening in on the ongoing conversation from the bottom of the stairs for a while and his son bringing up the current status of their feelings for each other seemed the best moment to make himself noticed. She'd just said they don't hate each other, so him sleeping in her house doesn't necessarily mean he's slept in the same bed as her. For all the children knew, they could have become friendly enough during the last week to actually be * friends * and he could have slept in the guest room to give the kids some privacy, since his trailer really is the only place they could achieve that. He hasn't planned on her daughter seeing the marks she desperately tried to hide half an hour earlier, but by the time she had, it was too late for him to turn around and head back upstairs. 

There's not really anything that would indicate he's responsible for the love bites, either, but how likely is it, that the teenagers would believe that, with him entering the living-room in the same clothes he'd worn to dinner last night, at eight in the morning? She had been wearing next to nothing just minutes before and she would never have done that, if she'd been afraid of him seeing her like that. This is messed up, and not how either of them had planned on relaying the news to their children but it seems there's no denying or hiding it either. 

So he takes a deep breath, steels himself for the onslaught of questions, and probably accusations, and enters the room fully. He leans against the armrest of the chair she's sitting in and reaches out to fix the collar of her shirt without looking. He doesn't need to see where the mark's located, he'd put it there, he knows. At least her daughter seems to realize that, too, by the look that adorns her face. When he takes his hand from her shoulder, one of her's closes over his', lacing their fingers. They are doing this right now, there's no need to pretend. She's holding on loosely, again giving him the choice to not do this, but he tightens his grip and sits beside her on the arm of the chair. 

“Oh my god” They watch the girl hide her face in her boyfriend's shirt for a moment, composing herself. When she looks at them again she doesn't look the least bit more put together. “No, this is not happening” She's out of her seat before any of them can convince her not to. 

“Betty...” 

“No, Mom. I need a minute” And suddenly the adults are alone in the room. But at least the children haven't left the house, they are most likely locked into her daughter's bedroom and with any luck he'll be able to calm her down just enough to hear what their parents have to say. 

This is the best opportunity for them to talk this through themselves, then they know what exactly they'll be telling their kids, and it's the first time neither of them wants to run from it. The only thing she does is get up from the armchair and pulls him over to the recently vacated couch. She leans against the arm, facing him but their fingers are still linked and they both take this as a good sign to the direction of their conversation. 

They both essentially want the same thing here, but since they had been too afraid to say it out loud until now, they don't actually * know * where the other stands in all this. And, wanting the same thing does not mean that it is the right choice in the end. They had learned that two decades earlier, when they ended up heartbroken because they had * wanted * to stay together but realized the * right choice * was something different. 

They are older now, lived the lives they thought were right for them and they should be able to make decisions on logic and not purely based on feelings. That's easier said than done, though, when the feelings haven't really lessened over twenty years of separate lives. And didn't logic went out the window the moment he'd kissed her anyway. 

“What are we doing here, FP?” It's the question they've been trying to answer for over a week now. This time they might actually get somewhere. She stops herself from fumbling with her shirt again, not that it would matter, but she'd rather not have their kids lay eyes on the obvious sign of their activities the last few days. Her other hand is still firmly in his. 

“I know, I should be saying ' I don't know' and that this probably is a mistake and that it won't happen again” He lifts his eyes to hers, watches her reaction closely. 

Of course, he's right. They hadn't worked once before and this second attempt at a relationship didn't really start off the right way either. But they had never * not worked *. In truth, they had been great and there had really been nothing breaking them up apart from the fact that he didn't want her to be stuck in a place she didn't want to be in. It had nothing to do with him, she would have taken his hand and walked to the end of the earth with him had he asked. He couldn't leave and she shouldn't stay. That didn't mean they did not belong together. Or still are. 

“But, that's not what you * want * to say?” She phrases it as a question. She can see in his eyes though that she could have put it as a statement and it would have been just as true. She feels him squeeze their joined hands and waits patiently for him to go on. She could tell him how she feels right now, but she's selfish, she really wants to know what he feels first. 

“Look, Alice, this isn't me, you know that, but I'm still going to say it” He's great with words, * that's * what she knows, but he also rarely uses that gift. The last time she heard him speak his heart was when he had convinced her that they were better off without each other. Something tells her, that this time, he is going in the opposite direction. “I am in love with you, have been since I was sixteen and I should have never let you go all those years ago. And I know, I have no right to ask for any of this, but if there really is any chance of us being * us * again, then I'll gladly take it” 

She can see he's not quite finished, but she cuts him off with her lips on his. She hasn't heard him say he loves her in way too long and not even the fact that she * did * love her husband at one point, can't change the way she's feeling about him today. 

“Yes, there's more than just a chance” She would like to leave it at that, start over again, leave their past in the past. He loves her, she loves him and the state of her marriage is inconvenient, but fixable. This is not how this will work thought. But maybe, just for today, they could pretend it does. They've had enough drama for one morning, and the actual talk with their children hadn't even happened yet. “There's a lot of stuff we have to talk about” It's a whisper, maybe he hasn't heard, and maybe he's all for ignoring the way they had ended and had treated each other in the past twenty years, too. 

“Shh, we do. But for right now it's enough for me to know I'm not alone in this” So this is really happening. And she's completely accepting of not ending this conversation in their first fight as an actual couple. They have the rest of their lives for that now. 

She has no recollection of moving but she suddenly finds herself in his lap, his tongue exploring her mouth and she feels like she's a teenager again, making out on the couch of her old childhood home. He's been as intoxicating to kiss back then, too. “I love you, too” And she's busy kissing him again. She can't seem to stop touching him once she starts. She lets out a short laugh, when he exposes her neck to him again and nibbles on the already marked flesh. 

“Are you kidding me?” They spring apart like they had been physically burned, sheepishly meeting their children's eyes. 

“Shit, Jughead, Betty...” If she were still one to throw around curses like that, she'd been the one to say it. As it is, it doesn't matter who did, because he's cut off anyway. 

“No, I'm willing to hear what you have to say, but that's it. I don't like this and I don't want to have any part in it” It's a slap to her face if she'd ever received one. But, just maybe, possibly, they deserve that. And, with time, a lot of it, perhaps all their children will come around. 

“I'm not sorry for this” It's probably the exact things she should not have started off with, but it's the truth. If she was, she would have ended this way before there would have been any need to justify it to their children. “But I * am * sorry for hurting you” This news would never have received a good reaction, but there's a chance that the girl might not have freaked so much had she not still been married. 

“Is this why you kicked dad out? To go back to sleeping with your High School boyfriend? Did you ever even stop screwing him?” Yea, she is definitely her daughter. That fire in her eyes, that look of pure hatred, that's Alice Cooper through and through. 

“Elizabeth!” 

“No, Mom, I think I have a right to these questions” And the girl's right, too. Does that mean she wants to hear her daughter talk to her like this?! She thought she'd raised them better than that. 

“I kicked your dad out, because he betrayed me” Her voice loses every bit of the strength it held towards the end of her sentence. She feels like a hypocrite, trying to convince her daughter lying is a good enough reason to send someone away while justifying her affair. “And I started * screwing * him the night I convinced him to repair his relationship with you” 

She's not comfortable at all talking with her daughter about this, or like this. It's her own fault, though. If she hadn't started this, she wouldn't have to explain herself right now. The arm he's slung over her shoulder helps more than he even realizes – also the fact that he lets her do this, not interfere in her family mess further than he's already involved in. She needs this if she ever wants to be on friendly terms with her children again. 

“So you and dad are over?” The kids are sharing the armchair in almost the same fashion they had earlier and it takes her breath away how familiar this looks. This could easily have been them twenty years ago. 

“Your dad and I have been over before I made him move out, we were just too good at pretending we weren't” That's true, too. If they hadn't fallen back into old patterns, perhaps she would have let her husband move back in soon and they would have gone one acting like they were good, but in the end they weren't and she thinks the break would have come sooner or later anyway. 

“And you and my boyfriend's father is serious?” She doesn't miss the almost non existent smirk on her daughter's lips when she flinches visibly. The phrasing had been intentional to make them feel bad. Whether Betty wants to admit it or not she has a whole lot of her mother in her. 

“Yes” She shares a quick look with the man next to her but he's still on the same page with her. “I know this is not what you want to hear, but nothing's changed about the way we felt about each other back then and we're finally giving it a chance.” She should not have said that, she can see it in the eyes staring back at her. The right answer would have been the admittance of a mistake and the promise of an end. She can't do that, not even for the sake of a family that looks perfect from the outside. 

“Does dad know any of this yet?” She can't decide if it's a last attempt to bring her to sanity or the petty reaction of a pissed teen, throwing the fact she's still married into their faces. 

It doesn't matter, she's done with this. She's willing to re-visit this particular talk when they can have an adult conversation. “Your father left the house around the time you showed up” 

“Oh my god, you're not even the least bit ashamed of what you did!” Neither of them really sees the girls extracting herself from her boyfriend's embrace, so fast she's out of the armchair and with a last judgmental look over her shoulder at the two adults, she leaves them sitting there. The front door slams hard enough, it could have brought the whole house down. 

“This is really not cool” It's the first thing Jughead says about this whole situation, however, they hadn't expected him to say anything else. “But I'm going to try to calm her down” Two appreciative nods in his direction and he follows his girlfriend out off the house. 

She buries her head in his shoulder almost immediately, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. Right now, she can't think of any way this could have gone worse than it had. He holds her close, placing a few gentle kisses to her temple and hair. “It won't stay like this, I promise” 

“Make me forget that happened?” She mumbles in his shirt and he's just too happy to comply.


	9. Part 9

News travels fast in a small town, and so she's not surprised by the looks she receives when she, three days later, walks into Pop's to meet with her family. She's not a fan of dragging their dirty business through the public and neither seems to be her husband, but her daughters refused to set foot into the house as long as she's there. 

She hasn't actually * been * in the house the last three days, having relocated to his trailer, at least for a while, to give all of them a little space to work through the news they'd received. She's not really officially moved out off one place or into the other, but it seemed to be for the best to get away. It's probably not been her best idea ever to stay with the man who's partly at fault for this, too. It's not like she cares, though. 

She'd always pictured, that if for some reason her marriage wouldn't work, she'd stay in the house in the fancy neighborhood, living under the same roof as her kids. No matter who would have been at fault for the break-up (or if the relationship just met it's natural end and they'd have split amicably), she had always been sure of how this would all pan out in the end. Never had she thought she'd be the one her kids don't want to talk to or even see, and she's determined to do anything at all to fix this in time. Anything except the one thing that would obviously make this all go away. 

It had taken exactly one hour, before the front door to the house had been opened again, startling the two of them into getting fully dressed again, and her eldest daughter had walked in. A look in her eyes Alice had never seen in her before, the girl had been marginally calmer than her sister, but a lot more colorful in language. And Polly had been the first of them to ever relay the problem out loud. Not a single one of them had been mad about the fact that she's with him – not the husband who has every right to be just that; not he daughter and her boyfriend who'll be going on to have a admittedly strange sort of relationship, but it's not like they would suddenly end up brother and sister. No, the one and only reason her family's mad at her is the lying and cheating. 

It had stung more than they both wanted to admit, because it had been nothing but the truth. Of course, her husband would never be thrilled about her rekindling a relationship with her former boyfriend and, of course, the younger couple would never be thrilled about their parents being together, too. But had she had the guts to end her marriage two weeks ago and would have been completely honest about seeing somebody else, maybe there would have been a chance for all of this not to blow up in her face so spectacularly. 

But since there's sadly nothing she can do about it anymore, she just tries to keep her head up as high as still possible when you just 'degraded' from the suburban Northside Home to a shabby Southside Trailer and meets the looks and whispers with a cold shoulder. She's not ashamed of being with him, and when he comes with her past and a biker gang she used to be part of, then that's what she'll take. 

He doesn't seem to have the same problems, and it should bother her, but again, it doesn't. His son is still not happy about their relationship, but they are at least talking to each other. There are also no snide remarks or sly looks from people around town for destroying a perfectly good marriage and dragging a respectful woman down a path again she fought hard to escape from. It seems like the only one responsible for any of this is her and if she'd still plan on living he rest of her life among the same neighborhood as those people, she would have made it pretty clear what she thought of them. As it is, the only thought occupying her mind right now is getting this family meeting over as quick as possible and go back to the place she intends to call home as soon as she has the courage to actually tell him that. 

Her husband and her two daughters are sitting in a booth, chatting and laughing away. They've obviously been here for a while already, milkshakes and coffee already halfway gone and her pregnant daughter is happily munching on some home-made fries. She used to love those outings and she'd been looking forward to more of those with her daughters and grandchildren. With a sudden pang in her chest she realizes she needs to fix her relationship with her kids as soon as humanly possible if she ever wants to have any part in the twins' lives. 

With a heavy sight, she approaches their table, tries a smile and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn't receive three cold shoulders. She won't read too much into this, but she hopes it's a start in the right direction. She takes the seat next to Polly, across from Betty, sends Hal a short glance. She has no idea whatsoever how to start this conversation. The girl next to her helps her out. 

“Betty says dad moved back home. Where have you been staying?” She didn't think any of them would want to talk to her aside from discussing the important aspects of separation and divorce. * This * isn't really the conversation she wants to have either, but she'd take every chance she gets. She doesn't get to answer immediately, though. 

“You know exactly where...” The ice dripping from her younger daughter's voice makes the blood cool in her veins. Seems like at least one of them still hates her. 

“Betty, I'm talking to mom” She doesn't think she has ever been this touched by anything Polly ever said or did than right now. The fact alone that the girl's willing to hear her out and shuts down her sister's hateful snarls means the world to her. Maybe she hasn't lost both her daughters after all. Her husband might not have spoken a word to her yet, but she sees him preventing their daughter from speaking further, too.

“Thank you” She doesn't know at all if it's the right think to say, if she * has * the right to say it, but she's a little shocked that the girl is even talking to her. She has had no conversation whatsoever with both her children since they'd found out. “But, your sister's right” She can't bring herself to say the words, to admit she's sleeping in her boyfriend's bed, when the three people she's currently with are still not accepting of the boyfriend in the first place. 

“So you've moved in with him?” Has she? Again, she knows she'd like nothing better than that, but just because they had finally admitted to being all in, doesn't mean he wants her around his trailer 24/7 either. 

“I have not” She settles on what is essentially still true. Most of her stuff is still in the house and her name's still on the title deed. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, when she sees the look her husband sends in her direction. Guess running away from your problems into the arms of your boyfriend counts as 'moving in' in his eyes. 

“But you're not moving back home either” It's a statement. No one around the table really believes her to, at least not for a good and long while. She notices her daughter absently stroking her pregnant belly in soothing motions and she has to bite her tongue to keep from asking if she's alright. She doesn't think she has earned the right to do * that * back quite yet. 

“No, I'm not” Three pairs of eyes fall nevertheless. It's one thing to think you know, but another altogether to hear her say it. 

“Then this it really it? There's no chance you can work this through?” Another rub across her stomach. This is upsetting the girl more than it should. Again, she asks herself if she's a bad person for doing this now, when her family needs her. 

“Ha, as if...” Eyes and voice cold, her younger daughter tries to get a word in, too, but is again interrupted. This is bad enough as it is, a pissed off teenager throwing around insults doesn't make it any better. 

“No, I'm afraid not” He makes eye contact with both their daughters briefly, before going on. “I'm sorry you have to be a part of all this”

“But, many couples make it through something like this. That doesn't mean you don't still love each other” She has to admire Polly for her attempts at fixing her parents marriage problems, but it's still no use.

“It's more complicated than that, honey.” It's time her children understand the futility of their attempts. “I know you and your sister are angry with me for cheating on your father. For your father, that's not the only thing” A quick look in her husband's eyes, then she digs her fingernails into her palms to ground her and stares at her hands. “It's * who * I cheated on him with that's the real problem here. It had been no secret, that I jumped from a break-up right into a new relationship and there had never been any doubt, that I hadn't been over FP in the beginning. Your father knew that and he didn't care, instead he did everything he could to make me fall in love with him. And I eventually did, I really, really did, but I also never stopped loving FP Jones.” She's not brave enough to lift her gaze back up and her next statement is almost inaudible. “And I guess that's not news to your father” 

“Is this true, dad?” To the surprise of all of them, it's Betty who speaks up. The girl's calm and collected, but the traces of anger and resentment are still lingering in her eyes. It's a start, however small, Alice decides. 

“Yes, I suppose it is. I was happy your mother chose me over him. But looking back on it, I * did * always know that he's still on her mind somewhere.” It feels like whenever she makes a step forward with one of them, there's another one that's pulling back. Her husband's not even looking in her direction anymore. “I should not be saying this with you girls around, but maybe this is exactly what you need to hear to help you see what your mother and I already know.” When he does look at her, she feels an acute sense of deja vu. It's a flashback to the day he'd walked in on them in the bedroom. “I could have lived with a mistake, with an indiscretion with probably * anyone *. And, maybe, with a lot of time and work, I might have been able to forgive you for him, too. But you don't want that. * You * abandoned this marriage because * I * hid something from you, and ran straight back to the man you wanted to be with all those years.”

“Hal...” 

“No, we both know that that's the truth. And what makes this hurt so much is not even the fact that our marriage didn't work out, but that it took you 4 days to end up in the bed of them man I hoped I had won you over from for good” 

She has nothing to say to that. Actually, she has no idea what she would have said hadn't he cut her off. This is exactly what she had pictured would happen when she'd show up here, but all the imagining doesn't make it sting any less. She'd transformed from the troublemaker to the good girl and had lived by that image for the last twenty years, desperately trying to hide her past from anyone who didn't know her back then and to simply forget herself. This is not supposed to be her anymore but she can't find one single bone in her body that regrets wanting to be with FP Jones instead of Hal Cooper. 

It's silent for a good while, three of them not sure what to say and one of them prevented from speaking exactly what is on her mind by a stern look from her father. When the silence is finally broken, it's not what she had expected him to say at all. 

“I'll be moving out by the end of the week” 

“Dad, you can't...” Her younger daughter can't seem to decide which mood she wants to stay in. The flash in her eyes could have killed somebody. 

“No, Betty this is a conversation between your father and me” She hasn't directly addressed the girl ever since she's arrived and by the darkening of her face, it's probably been the wrong thing to do even now. “And I don't want you to move out, it's your house, and your world.” 

“What do you mean * my world *? It's yours, too. You belong to this side of the city” He's never looked so confused in all the time she's known him. 

“I always thought that, too, but I'm not sure if I ever really did” 

She gets up then, and leaves her family sitting there, looking after her. She said what she wanted to, her children know it's definitely over between their parents and that she is determined to make this thing between her and him work. She made it clear, that she doesn't want anything from her husband, that he can keep all the fancy stuff and the house and that she's happy with the choice she made, even if she had gone about it the wrong way. She also had never intended to apologize for anything more than lying, because she's not sorry for the end of her marriage. It's up to them now to find it in them to forgive her or not. 

She's surprised, when a hand in her's stops her in the doorway from leaving. When she turns around, she's staring in the bright eyes of her older daughter. 

“I don't like this, and I hate you betraying dad like that. But I don't hate * you *” The girl takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and looks back at her mother. “You're still my mother and you will ever be my mother and I will always love you. I need a bit of time to get my head around all of this, but I * do * want you in my life and in your grandchildrens' lives”

“I'd like that, too” She's blinking back tears, because she had completely not expected something like that. “Can I hug you?” She hates that she needs to ask permission for such a simple act between mother and daughter, but she's not taking any chances to screw up the tentative step forwards that just happened. 

“Yea” And her daughter actually smiles at her. She embraces the girl in a tight squeeze and even dares to drop a small kiss onto her cheek. 

She leaves the diner then, a smile of her own on her lips, and heads home, feeling surprisingly better than she did before.


	10. Part 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, this is NOT over. I have marked this as complete, and technically it is, but there's a sequel already in the works that will pick up where we left off and will indeed include Jason Blossom's murder and how FP's involvement will affect their newfound relationship and explore more of Alice's way back to her roots. But since this had started of as a one shot depicting only two characters I went with my favorite method of writing and dropping next to no names in narration. With me expanding that Universe and introducing more characters, it get more and more confusing to do so and that's basically the reason I stopped this here and start the next part of their journey with a slightly different style. I hope to see you all back for that :) 
> 
> And for those of you who have asked for or hinted at maybe flashbacks to High School times, I'm sorry to have to disappoint you here, BUT there will be a separate prequel story for that sometime soon, too. 
> 
> I'm off to the german midnight premiere of the new Star Wars in a bit, but I hope you enjoy this last installment and I'd love to hear your thoughts when I get back home. 
> 
> Love, J

He's tracing random patterns on her back, and she smiles into the pillow underneath her head when she realizes at least every third of them is a heart. He's the tough guy, ready to fight whenever necessary, and he can look fierce and dangerous when around the rest of the Serpents, but what none of them know is * this * side of him. The side she came to appreciate so much after she had fallen in love with the bad boy all those years ago – the side that is reserved only for the people he loves. She had counted herself the luckiest girl in the world to be falling under this description and she finds she still does. She loves him for everything he is, all his flaws and past mistakes included, but she lives for those moments when they are completely alone and he lets this soft and caring part of him show. 

He had never treated her badly or any less than she deserved when in school or with their friends, had always made sure everyone knew how much she was his and how much in love he was with her, but he had also always been different at home. 

Here, there's no one around to demand his attention but her, and he fully intends to give her all of that she desires. There's also no one around to challenge his leadership role when he lets show that he does indeed have a soft and loving heart. 

His hands change course and he follows the length of her spine with a feather light touch. She can't suppress the small sound of delight when his fingers travel lower still, sneaking under the sheet that's just barely covering her as it is, and smooth over her backside and down her legs as far as he can reach from his position. 

He laughs, leans down to press a kiss in her hair and to her cheek, grazing her earlobe with his teeth lightly, before reaching the corner of her mouth. He linger there, and she doesn't complain, just turns her head a nit more to accept his kiss fully. When he pulls back, she finally opens her eyes, locks them onto his and smiles when she sees his matching one. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you” He sounds sincere enough, that she would have believed him if she didn't know him like she did. 

“Liar” She retorts with a laugh, her eyes traveling down the front of his body to where the sheets pulled around his hips. With a slightly quirked eyebrow she lets him know she is aware of his intentions and she can't deny that she's incredibly willing to give in to them, too. “Don't you dare stop” She gives him a stern glance that would have been more intimidating in probably any other situation than lying naked next to him in bed, and the hand that's tried to retreat back up her spine stays exactly where it is. 

“Never” He kisses her again then, makes such a thorough job of it, that she forgets everything around her. When he pulls back she needs a moment to realize that she needs to breath. And it had happened only once before, on the night twelve days ago when they had slept together for the first time, and she vows to never let it happen again, but she can't help comparing him to her soon-to-be ex-husband. She had loved Hal and he had his own ways to make her feel good and great and to rouse her to his touch, but she seriously doesn't recall ever being this done-in by a simple kiss. 

She turns onto her back then, pushing the sheet off of her body completely and giving him a perfect view of her unclothed body. The hand that had been massaging the back of her thighs travels to her front with her movement and he doesn't waste any time in picking up his ministrations in his new position. She moans into his kiss, her eyes opening briefly and closing again without her conscious thought to do so, when he pushes her legs apart and lets his fingers wander higher. 

By the time he actually touches her where she wants, needs, him most, she's almost ready to fall over the edge already. If she would have been able to think any straight thought, she would have spared one on the question of how he's able to get her off so easily without even * doing * anything. As it is, her mind draws a blank on anything but the way he's feeling on her, around her, * in * her, and she writhes underneath him as he brings her closer and closer to the edge with his fingers. He's watching her face, loves to see how it changes with pleasure every time he moves within her and when her hips arch off the bed with her release, he leans down to kiss her again. 

She's panting hard, eyes still closed, lips slightly parted, while he helps her down from her high, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck. “Shit” is all she is able to produce in words for a long time, but she slaps him in the shoulder when he dares to laugh at her. 

“You looked like you needed that” He's only half joking. Even in sleep she looked tense and troubled, mind probably still on the family meeting she had yesterday. 

“And I'm not done yet” A sly smirk lets him know exactly what she has in mind. He's with her there, but there * are * things they have to discuss. Aforementioned family meeting for example. 

They had spent the remainder of yesterday's afternoon and night in bed, with very few talking involved. She hadn't looked as bad as he thought she would when she came home, but he hadn't been there, so there really had been no way for him to know how it went. She had sunken into the couch next to him, whispered some words into his ear even he did not dare repeat out loud and had proceeded to leave a trail of clothes along the way to the bedroom. He had followed her without reluctance, had asked her how it went exactly once and when she promised she'd tell him tomorrow he hadn't pushed. Maybe it also had something to do with the fact that she had been leaning against the bedpost, completely naked, beckoning him over. 

But it's tomorrow now and they were getting sidetracked again, without talking about it. She's here with him and that speaks volumes to how this meeting had turned out concerning her marriage and the question of who she wants to be with. But he has no idea how she feels about it, or what exactly the status of her relationship with her daughters is right now. His son doesn't talk about his girlfriend, at least not in that regard, and he would much rather hear it from her anyway. 

“Alice” He starts when she pushes up on her elbows, in turn pushing him onto his back. He can feel a frustrated sigh threatening to leave his lips when she just rolls her eyes at him. 

“I'm not going anywhere” What she's saying is that they will talk after. There's time for words, even the important ones, and she makes it clear, that right now is * not * that time. 

She swings her leg over his hips, straddling him. But when she reaches down to touch him, to join them in an intimate embrace, he flips them over and enters her in one, swift stroke. The headboard is the first thing she can find to grab onto, clawing her nails into it. “Shit” Maybe she should expand her vocabulary by a few more of those curse words when she decides to use them more frequently again. She had had quite the arsenal of colorful language back when they were younger, and she had been far from shy to use them in any given circumstance. He had loved them the most when she had been screaming them in the throes of passion. 

He sets a quick pace that has her squirming under him again in a matter of minutes, and he's far enough gone already that the doesn't care that the are reaching the end so fast. He would have liked to take his time, to worship her as the goddess she is, like he does mostly every time they make love, but he had woken up from a very pleasant dream, already worked up enough to be painful. Seeing her fall apart under his touch had done nothing to help with that. 

When she comes she does so whispering his name into the silence of the bedroom around them. “Shit” She laughs when she hears him curse against her skin. She's not sure why this particular word seems to be occupying both their minds this morning. 

They lie together, catching their breaths, reveling in each others company for what feels like days. In reality he leaves her warm embrace after about ten minutes, sliding into some discarded clothes and tossing her one of his shirts she loves to wear. He still can't get enough of her, but they need to talk, so he decides it's best to do that over coffee and breakfast instead of right here. She seems to realize that, too, slips into the shirt and, heading towards the bathroom, promises to be right out. 

When she steps into the kitchen there's a steaming cup of coffee waiting for her on the table, another one warming his hands as he's leaning against the counter. They put off breakfast until after she's relayed her conversation from yesterday and he takes a seat at the table. She reaches over to link their hands and he pulls her onto his lap, encircles her waist with his free arm. Then she takes a heavy breath. 

“Betty still hates me” He drops a kiss to her neck, pulls her even firmer into him. He intends to give her all the support she needs. He can't help feeling a little bad himself, because isn't this partly his fault as well?!

“I'm sorry” It will help the situation not one bit, but maybe it helps ease her mind a little. She shrugs her shoulders and he thinks he feels her relax marginally. 

“But Polly might be coming around” She leans over to drop a soft kiss onto his lips. “She wants me to be in the twins' lives” And there's a real and honest smile showing on her face. He squeezes her waist and kisses her lips again. This is good news. They had known it wouldn't be easy, and that there would be some great obstacles in their way in the form of their children first and foremost. But it was worth it they both knew. 

When her face fell again, he knows they had reached the husband. “Hal volunteered to move out off the house” And that's when his expression darkened, too. 

“So you're going back home then?” He should have known that. Hell, he even wants her to. There's nothing he would rather than for her to stay, to spend the rest of her life here with him. But he also knows that's not what she should be doing. She had wanted to escape once, and he wants her to stay exactly where he thinks she belongs. 

“No” It's all she says, face turned away from him, but her back settles comfortably against his front. 

“What do you mean, * no *?” He shifts underneath her until she has to get up from his lap. When she stands before him, he reaches for both her hips and turns her around to face him. He pulls her back onto his lap like this, looking her deep in the eye. 

“Exactly what I just said” She loops her arms around his neck loosely and leans in to kiss him properly, but he pulls his face out of her reach and glares at her. 

“Alice” He has to swallow an expletive when she levels a look at him. “I love you, but this is not where you belong. The Northside is your home” They could still be together living in different houses and socializing in different circles. 

“God, you sound just like Hal” She smiles to herself when he looks seriously offended. “Why can't you just let * me * decide which side of this freaking town I belong in?” 

“Alice” He starts again, but she takes a deep breath and cuts him off. She doesn't want to argue, they have all the time in the world for that, but she needs to make it clear, that she is not going back. That he better straight out tell her he doesn't want her or she's here to stay. Just like she should have done when they were teenagers. 

“I am not going anywhere. I have done the fancy house and the fancy clothes and the * right * husband. And while I can't deny it had been great for a time, I recently came to realize that that's just not me anymore. I don't know, maybe it had never really been in the first place” She pauses for a moment, gauges his reaction. “But what I know, without a doubt, is that I love you and that I am doing exactly what I should have done twenty years ago. I won't make the same mistake twice, so unless you can tell me right here, right now, to my face that you don't want this, I'm not leaving you, or the South side” 

In answer, he tightens his grip around her thighs and stands up from the chair they're sitting in. Her legs automatically cross behind his back and he sets her down on the table in front of him, kissing her with everything he has. 

The last thought on her mind is, that this is exactly the life she did not want to live twenty years ago, but right now there's nothing she wants more.


End file.
